Absolute Cheater - Chapter 482
Chapter 482: Averin Academy VI
He lowered his sword, looking at each of them one by one. “You’ve all done well,” he said. “You’re learning fast, but you still rely too much on your power. You trust your strength, your bloodlines, your abilities—but not yourselves.”
He stepped closer, his voice steady and clear. “What you saw today wasn’t magic or secret techniques. It was just control—every movement guided, every breath in rhythm. Power without control is nothing. Control without understanding is empty.”
Maxwell clenched his fists, frustrated but thoughtful. “So all that speed… that strength… was just skill?”
“Yes,” Asher said. “Skill, rhythm, and awareness. When your mind and body move together, there’s no delay. Every thought becomes action. That’s when you stop reacting and start deciding every moment of the fight.”
Amanda looked down at her whip, her voice quiet. “It felt like you already knew what we were going to do before we did it.”
“That’s awareness,” Asher said simply. “When you understand your opponent’s rhythm, you don’t need to predict—you just see it. Every shift in breath, every twitch of muscle tells a story. You just have to learn to read it.”
Sylens exhaled, shaking his head. “So that’s what it means to go beyond the lower bindings… You’re not stronger—you’re clearer.”
Asher nodded once. “Exactly. Strength can’t take you there. Clarity can. The higher realm isn’t about forcing your power—it’s about refining it until every drop of energy answers perfectly to your intent.”
He looked up toward the courtyard sky, faint traces of morning mist still lingering. “Once you reach that state, your bloodline won’t control you. You’ll control it.”
The cousins were silent for a moment, each absorbing his words. The faint hum of the repaired courtyard filled the quiet.
Finally, Sophia spoke softly. “And what’s next?”
“Next,” Asher said, turning toward the training field again, “you’ll start breaking the habits that keep you bound to the lower realm. You’ll fight without using your bloodline gifts. No auras, no abilities—just pure movement and instinct.”
Amanda blinked. “You mean, start from zero?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “Because only when you strip away everything else can you find your real center.”
He stepped back and gestured for them to rest. “Eat. Recover. Then we start again at noon.”
As they left the field, quiet and thoughtful, Asher watched them go. His expression softened slightly. Despite their exhaustion, there was fire in their eyes now—real determination.
He looked down at his sword, the faint reflection of the dawn sky glinting off its edge.
“They’ll learn,” he murmured to himself.
He sheathed his blade, the sound of steel sliding into the scabbard breaking the silence. For a moment, Asher stood there, alone in the courtyard. The repaired marble beneath his feet gleamed faintly in the morning light, still carrying traces of the battle’s intensity, as if the air itself remembered every clash, every breath.
He exhaled slowly.Teaching them—truly teaching—required more patience than any battle ever had. But he could see it now: the spark forming behind their hesitation. They were beginning to look beyond raw strength, beginning to feel the rhythm that separated warriors from masters. That was progress worth more than a hundred victories.
He turned his gaze toward the distant academy walls. The mist around them shimmered faintly with enchantments, gliding lazily like ghosts of the past. Beyond that barrier, the world was moving—wars, sects, alliances—and soon, the peace they enjoyed here would be gone.He knew it. They all did.
When the time came, they wouldn’t have the luxury of learning mid-battle. They’d need to be ready.
By noon, the courtyard was once again alive with motion. The four cousins stood in a circle, no aura surrounding them this time. Their faces were focused, restrained. The ground bore faint scuff marks from their early warm-ups—proof that even without power, movement alone could carry weight.
“Begin,” Asher said simply.
They lunged—Maxwell first, always eager to test the limits. His steps were heavy at first, too much force behind each strike, but Asher parried effortlessly, redirecting each blow with minimal movement. Amanda followed, her whip darting low, but without her bloodline energy it was sluggish, lacking its signature snap. Sophia tried to flank him from behind, while Sylens moved with more precision than before, his sword following a measured rhythm.
Asher deflected all of it—one hand behind his back, blade flowing like water.He wasn’t faster. He wasn’t stronger. He simply moved cleaner. Every swing his students made, he saw before it happened. The shift of weight, the tightening of muscles, the faint pause in breath—every sign was clear to him.
He stepped through Maxwell’s guard, tapping his shoulder with the blunt edge of his sword. “Too tense.”
Pivot.A twist of his wrist, the whip wrapped harmlessly around his blade. “Too predictable,” he said to Amanda.
He ducked, sweeping Sophia’s leg lightly before she could adjust. “Better, but you’re following their rhythm, not your own.”
Sylens’ sword came last, low and direct. For a moment, Asher smiled—there was calmness there, a stillness before the strike. He blocked it cleanly, but this time, he nodded. “That’s closer.”
They reset. Again and again.Hours passed.
By dusk, sweat drenched them, their arms trembling from exhaustion. The air hummed softly with the rhythm of repetition—strike, parry, counter, correct. Again. Again.
Asher finally called, “Stop.”
They froze mid-motion. The faint orange light of sunset painted the courtyard in long shadows.”You’re starting to understand,” he said. “Power amplifies the self. But if the self is chaotic, power only multiplies the chaos.”
He glanced toward the horizon, where the barrier shimmered faintly against the dying sun. “Tomorrow, we’ll add back a fraction of your energy. I want to see how much control you retain once power returns.”
Sophia breathed heavily. “A fraction?”
“Yes. One-tenth of your usual strength.”He smiled faintly. “Enough to destroy yourselves if you lose focus.”
The silence that followed was heavy—but determined. No one objected.
As they bowed slightly and left the courtyard once more, Asher remained behind, gazing at the fading light. A breeze drifted through the open field, stirring his cloak.